


Je ne sais quoi

by bamboobrat



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamboobrat/pseuds/bamboobrat
Summary: Gerri Kellman feels frustrated over one Roman Roy and a friend helps her out.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Original Female Character, Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 13
Kudos: 30





	Je ne sais quoi

**Author's Note:**

> i feel very grateful for all the thirsty content on here and felt as though it was time i contributed again.
> 
> this one is for all the lesbian gerri x roman people out there. best part of the internet
> 
> (also roman is not a huge part of this i'm sorry don't hate me its sxe tho hope that helps lol:))))

Two G&Ts in and her muscles remained tense as ever. What Gerri needed most of all was to get off.

She wasn't usually the type to opt for a booty call and, even if she did, she would certainly never refer to it as such. But the New York summer made her warm and itchy and days in the office rarely remained uneventful when working for one of the most controversial men of the decade.

It also didn't help that the de-facto heir of the company, Kendall Roy, suffered from what she could only describe as a severe case of the Oedipus complex. Hopefully, this only pertains to his daddy issues, Gerri thought as she zapped her way through the obligatory news channels, examining the coverage of today's events. Kendall's face was plastered across the screen for the fourth day in a row. As the news anchor updated the world on the inner workings of Waystar Royco and the Roy family, a photo of the siblings came up beside him. Between Kendall and the rest of the kids, the channel had photoshopped an imaginary rift. Gerri's eyes lingered on Roman, chin in hand, hunched over on the left side of the picture, deciding to never think of the Oedipus analogy ever again.

There had been, you see, an incident. Gerri didn't know how else to describe it. From the outside, it might have seemed like nothing and yet it had been hanging over her all day.

She was in the elevator, making her way back from a meeting to the seventy-sixth floor where the executive floor hovered over the city like a nuisance, when the doors suddenly opened at ATN and Roman stepped in.

It had been weeks since their last "conference call". Gerri tried not to think about it too much, but it had become fairly regular a event the last few months. At work, things were normal. Roman would linger in her doorway from time to time, ask for advice, make ambiguous comments that could be interpreted every which way… He would wink at her playfully when he passed her hallway, sometimes make a military salute, and she would performatively roll her eyes.

But since coming back from Croatia, the calls had stopped. The ground on which they stood had imploded and they risked getting swallowed whole. All that was left were brief stolen glances and double entendres.

"ATN?" She asked as he entered the elevator, noticing remains of television makeup along his jawline.

"Fucking fires everywhere," he sighed, taking a few steps to the back of the elevator so he could lean against the railing.

He looked tired. She hated that she noticed he looked tired.

"You have a little, um, something…" She trailed off, gesturing at the spot between his jaw and neck.

"Fucks sake, why do they need everyone to fucking look like Mulan being sold off to a man or whatever," he mumbled, and began rubbing the back of his hand against his stubble, missing the very spot where remnants of powder had gathered.

"Hold on, Mulan," she snickered, moving towards him.

He froze ever so slightly and she could tell, even as he made an effort to pretend not to. It made her uncertain, but showing said uncertainty meant acknowledging the freeze in the first place, which was not an option. She tried to remain as cool, calm and collected as ever as she turned towards him.

"They used at least one shade too dark for you," she said, wetting her dumb with her tongue before brushing it across his jaw.

He bent his head ever so slightly to the side and she could feel his eyes on her, even as hers remained on his neck.

"You should be careful with this next time. Wouldn't want accusations of another Rapoport incident in the midst of all these fires."

He let out a little laugh, letting out some of the tension that was visibly tight across his body. She noticed how his Adam's apple bobbed as she removed the very last of the orange tint.

***

She is finishing off her second G&T by the time there is a knock on her door. Despite expecting it, she jumps at the sound. She can tell that she is nervous and uncommonly bad at masking it. It takes a lot for her to get nervous these days. Years of having to navigate her narcissistic psychopath of a boss, instilling fear in all those who cross his path, has made most intimidation lose its meaning. Walking towards the door, however, she can feel her pulse rise, as if she is about to do something wrong and she knows it.

" _Bonsoir, ma chérie!_ " Florence announces as she opens the door, flowers in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other.

"Ah, Flo, darling, how good it is to see you!"

Part of her feels immediately calmer as she steps forward to give Florence a kiss on each cheek.

" _Ah, on fait la bise?_ "

Flo grins.

"Clearly you are feeling guilty for not reaching out in, what has it been, four months?"

"Yes, I am terribly sorry. Work has been very hectic."

An unfamiliar feeling of awkwardness comes over her. Most of the time, Florence's directness is something she appreciates. Now, it feels intimidating.

Florence, however, seems unfazed, sleek, black heels knocking against wooden floors as she makes her way towards the kitchen.

" _Pas de soucis, Geraldine,_ " she gestures into thin air, putting her things on the counter to begin her search for a decent corkscrew.

She says it with a heavy French accent, perhaps a bit exaggerated for dramatic effect, which is the only way Gerri can ever imagine liking the sound of her full name.

"I thought perhaps you had started seeing someone."

Flo examines the two corkscrews from the top drawer, placing them carefully in front of her. One is the most primitive of contraptions, on that Gerri remembers bringing with her from her college dorms when she moved to New York. The other is a three-hundred-dollar electric one she got Baird for his birthday.

Flo opts for the former.

"So are you?"

"Am I what?"

Gerri follows her into the kitchen, sits down by the kitchen island across from where Flo is standing.

"Seeing someone?"

"Oh no, it is not like that."

Bordeaux is poured into crystal glass.

" _Alors_ , work?"

"Yes, yes, work."

" _Dommage_ ," Flo says, shrugging her shoulders. Clearly not an attempt to pry. "You should really get out more, you know. You are quite the catch."

She hands Gerri a glass and sits down next to her.

"Some of us do not have the youthful energy nor the time to juggle multiple partners at the same time," Gerri smirks.

"Aha, well, you know, some only need me every few months, so what am I supposed to do with myself in the meantime?" Flo taunts, raising her eyebrows.

Gerri hums at her carefree tone and brings the wine to her lips.

"This is truly divine. You have outdone yourself."

***

She first met Florence when visiting an up-and-coming vineyard upstate years ago. Florence was there on business; she wanted to find new, interesting wines for the restaurants she ran in New York. Gerri was there because Baird had wanted to go.

Gerri had always found Baird's interest in wine slightly gauche, a sign he was trying too hard to make up for his blue collar upbringing, but at the table with Florence and Thomas, she thought that perhaps she could finally understand some of the allure.

"These undertones of vanilla, from the oak, it is very common here in America," Flo said, nose pointing down into the large glass. "It tricks you into thinking the wine is sweet."

After a few rounds, they were no longer using the spit bucket. The waiter didn't seem to mind. They were spending enough not to be bothered no matter how inebriated they got. As Thomas left the table to take a call, Baird turned to Florence and asked how long they had been together.

"Together? Thomas?" Florence laughed. "We are not together. He is… _Comment dit-on? Plan cul?"_

A fuck buddy.

Baird laughed nervously.

"I do not think I am made for monogamy. There are simply too many interesting, beautiful people out there to meet."

Gerri remembers thinking this must have been the most French thing she had ever heard. Although she was perfectly happy that night, with Baird by her side, she couldn't help but find Florence liberating. When Baird died, she continued going to restaurants and wine tastings with Flo and her flame of the week. She met interesting people, talked about things unrelated to her work for once and drank magnificent wine.

Florence was the first person to suggest she should start seeing people again after Baird died. Except she didn't exactly use those words.

_"Geraldine, ma chérie,_ you need to fuck."

She said it so casually and so abruptly that Gerri couldn't help but let out a cackle.

"I don't think I am ready to have another man in my bed just yet," she responded, still chuckling at the thought.

"Doesn't have to be your bed. Doesn't have to be a man," Florence said, shrugging.

She had only recently started seeing an art director at one of the largest galleries for contemporary art in New York.

"Mara is _incroyable,_ " she mused on the phone. "I had almost forgotten how satisfying it can be to be with a woman."

Gerri had never considered being with a woman before. Maybe that's what several decades of being married to a man does to you. At first, she couldn't imagine being with anyone other than Florence, but, after a few times, as Flo ate her out at the foot of her bed, she had decided to keep her options open.

And here she was, once more, standing in the kitchen, slowly unbuttoning her shift.

"What are you in the mood for today?" Flo asks matter-of-factly, as her hand grazes Gerri's nipple.

Gerri already feels a slight throb between her legs; a dull aching that has haunted her all day. At the brief touch, she feels the goosebumps spread across her skin.

"Someone is awake this evening," Flo teases, slipping her shirt and bra strap off the shoulder and gently putting her lips to her collarbone.

Gerri instinctively bucks her lips. Greedy. Eager. She knows she should hold herself back, not seem so desperate, but Flo's mouth feels warm and wet against her chest now, making its way down to her breast. For the first time in weeks, she feels her mind slipping and her body relax.

"What do you want, _Geraldine?"_

"I want you to…" she starts, gasping for air suddenly as Flo's teeth find her nipple.

"I need you to fuck me."

" _Oui, madame,_ " Flo responds with a smile, making her way down to her knees.

Hands trailing up the back of her legs, carefully up her skirt.

Gerri leans her hands heavier into the kitchen counter, feels herself melting away and imagines her knuckles turning white as she grips it, her pelvis tilting forward.

"Ah, we are _very_ awake, I see," Flo hums, fingers moving up Gerri's skirt to remove her panties.

"It usually takes you a bit longer to get this wet, _non_?"

"Mhm…" is all Gerri can get herself to respond has she feels the underwear make its way down her legs and kicks it away on the kitchen tiles, cold conditioned air now against her sensitive skin.

"Tell me what you are thinking about," Florence inquires, bunching up the skirt, kissing the inside of Gerri's tight as she makes her way up.

Her mind stops for a millisecond at the idea of disclosing such things. She knew Florence liked to talk, to describe, to imagine. But usually, the conversation has been contained to the two of them. The mention of somebody else, somebody real, brings on a sense of panic.

"I, uh…"

She doesn't know what to say. All she knows is that she needs Florence to continue. Looking down, she sees Florence staring up at her clearly amused. She brings two finger up to her center and into her as she taunts:

" _Geraldine_ , darling, did you bring me here to fuck you while you think of somebody else?"

It doesn't sound angry or disappointed or indignant. On the contrary, Florence sounds and looks more turned on than anything, one hand under her skirt, starting to make slow rhythmic movements, the other on her hip. She continues to look up with an intrigued look in her eyes, pupils dilated, mouth half open in a smile.

"Tell me about them," she continues.

"I…"

Gerri can't get the words out.

"I… I can't."

"Why not?"

It's hardly more than a whisper. With the question, Gerri can feel how the knuckle of Flo's thumb begins to draw slow circles around her clit.

"It's not… We shouldn't be," she stutters.

She tightens her grip around the counter. Her hips have inevitably begun to move to the rhythm of Flo's hand, a rhythm that remains excruciatingly meticulous and constrained.

"Ah, I see. C'est _interdit_?"

Further focusing her attention on her clit, Flo rises up to face Gerri, pressing her ever so slightly against the counter with her own hips.

"Oui," Gerri breathes out in a smile, as Flo moves her hand from her hip to her neck.

"It can be very exciting, you know, when it is forbidden," Flo whispers into her ear before scraping her teeth across the soft skin beneath her ear.

As she bites down harder, Gerri lets out a moan, grinding her hips into Florence's hand with vigor.

"So greedy today, huh," Flo whispers, steading her hips with her own to control the pace. "We will get there, I promise."

Gerri can't help but whine into her mouth at that. Like a petulant child, she thinks. But Florence only hums, satisfied, and continues:

"I'm going to lie down on the ground, okay?"

It takes all of Gerri's strength to nod. She can feel the heat starting to build in the lower parts of her abdomen. She needs to contain herself if she wants to know exactly what Florence has in mind.

"I am going to lie down on the floor and you are going to sit on my face so I can taste exactly how much you long for this… _je ne sais quoi._ Okay?"

"Mhm," she whines into her mouth again.

"And when you come, I want you to say their name. Even if it is forbidden _._ "

While saying so, Florence calmly removes her hand from Gerri's cunt. A strangled cry escapes her lips, but the movement also brings some of her attention back to the situation at hand. Without saying anything, she quickly unzips her skirt, stepping out of it still in her shoes.

As she steps over Florence, she can hear her whisper, " _viens_ ", before she helps to lower her down to her knees.

As Gerri's cunt lightly touched down, she can hear Flo let out a soft moan, feeling the body below her move to make herself more comfortable.

Slowly at first, she begins to roll her hips, grinding down as Flo moves her tongue from her clit, down her lips, and eventually inside her.

"Who is greedy now," Gerri sighs, and feels Flo squirm again beneath her. She can feel her arms reach down beneath her, to touch her ass, before they continue down to, presumably, touch herself.

The mere thought of that sends shivers down Gerri's spine and her hips begin to move more aggressively to get the tongue deep inside her, Flo's nose occasionally grazing her clit.

The movements are instinctual now, fueled by nothing but desperate need, and she can let her mind wander back to the elevator.

Her hand reaching for Roman's jaw. His dark eyes on her. For a second, she was convinced he would touch her, kiss her even. Something in his eyes screamed hunger. She lets herself imagine for a second, only a second, her knees lowered, as they are now, onto the carpeted floor of the elevator. His hungry eyes staring up at her. His tongue inside her.

Her mind can only occupy this space for so long before she finds the warmth in her abdomen tighten and create a wave that spreads out through the rest of her limbs. One last thrust and without thinking, without being able to stop herself, she moans out, _Rome,_ before falling forwards onto her palms.

It takes her a second to come to her senses. She is still breathing heavily when she hears Florence make her way up from the floor.

"Good girl, _Geraldine,_ " Gerri hears from somewhere far away.

By the time she gets up, Florence is already pouring her another glass of wine. Although evidently absurd, she feels somehow exposed standing there, shoes still on, shirt still on, with no underwear. The idea of beginning to look for it seems humiliating, so she kicks off hers shoes instead and heads to the bathroom. When she comes out, hair pulled back and face clean, wearing a robe, Florence is standing perched against the kitchen counter, finishing her glass of wine.

"I should probably not say this, since it is in my self-interest to keep you, you know, frustrated," she smiles, gesticulating with the now empty glass, "but, for you own good, I think you should explore this… _je ne sais quoi._ "

It is a relief to Gerri that Flo doesn't repeat his name. Part of her wonders if she even remembers.

"If not, _Geraldine,_ " she continues, placing the empty glass on the counter, "I am here to please."

She steps forwards, gives Gerri a soft kiss on each cheek, before heading towards the door.

" _Au revoir, ma chérie."_

As the door closes, Gerri calmly collects her clothes from the floor, folds them, and leaves them for the cleaners. She pours herself a class of Bordeaux and turns the news back on.

**Author's Note:**

> @bamboobrat on tumblr hmu if you like roman x gerri lol its all i do on there


End file.
